Facsimile
by Mirae-no-sekai
Summary: They agreed that they had that in common. ZekuNami, for Wishing-Fire's 100-theme challenge take two!
1. Black and White

She's Zexion's shade of gray.

It wasn't that obvious for him. He dealt solely in darkness and deceit; she was an exceedingly useful accomplice. And for Zexion, thinking of Naminé as anything but a tool was an inconvenience he chose to hide under sufficient illusions.

Yet, every time the witch child took an action, there'd be a look in her eyes. A spark of naïveté- the fleeting thought of her still being in the light and that maybe, she can still get out through all her subterfuge…

And Zexion, for some reason, procrastinates letting the fantasies fade to black. Hears out her theories and doubts even, in lapses of memory and pauses in schemes.

For him, Naminé's the only way he'll see the fabled light.

* * *

A.N. – I'm back with crack (pairing). Well, I did say I would do this :) So, it'll be a pleasure for me to write, and hopefully, for you to read too!

See you around,

-Mirae


	2. Angel

Once upon a time, Zexion narrates from a thick tome. Naminé doesn't think it's a storybook, and neither is the story particularly nice- some dreary piece about fallen angels and striving back towards…

She barely catches Zexion tripping up on existence, barely pictures them covered in death-dust and the story makes a little sense even if it probably wasn't meant in this way at all. And Naminé, before reeling in after the fact-

"It's us, isn't it?"

He holds her in his gaze, pondering the question before sealing the book and murmuring-

"Not you at all. Maybe, you didn't even fall."

-then leaves, cloaked in darkness and the after-image of a lukewarm smile.


	3. Venom

Zexion deals with envenomed words. Slow-killing lies, hallucinogens recited from memory and he's better than even the traitors at that art.

And Naminé, she has gone through so many poisons that she pretends they don't hurt her anymore.

They do, Zexion can see under antidote-blue eyes. And just for her, Zexion weaves almost-healing words, anesthesia-fantasies even when both know that he can't really heal.

Naminé still smiles a hazy smile at him as Zexion cocoons her in illusions and he pretends that her expression isn't affecting him in the least.

Both know it does- too much, to chase into the poisoned Wonderland for another smile.


	4. Confession

"I'm doing this all for me. Not…"

Naminé barely begins that thought before quieting down. _Not the Organization_, she would've said- Zexion can read her almost as well as a book. _Not Marluxia or Larxene, that is_, Naminé would've added when she saw the reprimanding look Zexion _would've_ worn after the unsaid comment.

Then there would've been a slight edge of sarcasm on overcomplicated words as Zexion returned to his lexicon, any small confessions forgotten-

"I'm doing this solely to further my personal interests as well, Naminé."

"What?"

And he won't be as careless with his comments as she is, Naminé knows, but she's going to decode that odd half-smile someday.


	5. Wish

Ienzo isn't one for wishes anymore. Not when he finally has a heart, a life, a…

A longing to show a witch-girl around the castle, or even walk outside and bask in getting sun burnt until neither of them are pale specters any longer.

And Ienzo, he shouldn't go around making more wishes on relying on miracles- those things only happen the one time.

So he sets off again with over-sweetened tea to the records and checks everywhere for Naminé, until he can set off and find her again between half-done wishes and colored-in blanks.

Hopefully, she'll have her heart as well.


	6. Forgotten

Naminé has tried to forget in vain.

She's tried to stop comparing the white halls of her second prison to the first. She's accustoming herself to unbroken days in the same pallid room, with no slim shadow greeting her every once in a while. There are no more pretend-walks on the worlds she draws, no more lilting banter. There are still dark portals, although Naminé doesn't jump at them like she used to- there are no dangers in them anymore.

And her illusionist, so unexpectedly persistent in her memories, isn't in them either.

So Naminé keeps trying to forget him, even as she unconsciously draws with slate-blue pen.

* * *

_A.N._ – Hey, sonicdisney :) Long time no see! And thanks for the review- I did try to make it a bit more believable, or something. Probably closer to _'or something'_.

As for the rest of you- thanks for tuning in, hope you like it and be seeing you soon!


	7. Where did they go?

In the end, his illusions are all memory-based as well. And Zexion used to burn hours away replaying skits from Before- sometimes alone, or to an audience of one girl in white.

And Naminé never once heard him ask where those almost-happy days had gone, or say anything but the long incantations or a small comment when she'd take a pen to paper and drew his memories in.

Only to _include yourself, please_, teasing on the pauses between magic-heavy words. Not that they'd have any effect on him…

But the synthesized drawings are at times better than the hazy recollection, and Zexion prefers clarity over a muddled old thing, prefers seeing Naminé's ghostly smile every so often instead of just seeing…

For now, he closes the book.


	8. Battlefield

Naminé has seen mostly everyone leave for their battlefields. It's quite a routine- she'll don the role of a beloved hostage, look the right amount of fearful. It's a simple glamor, much easier than weaving the memories. More involving than the memories too- Naminé gets to really see the people, to check up on the aesthetics of emotion.

But her favorite target isn't of much use in that last regard, with all his bluish hair tossed on his face and an emotionless smirk as good as painted on. And Zexion always makes dry comments about Naminé concentrating more on her duties instead of almost walking with him outside…

Yet Naminé hasn't really seen Zexion portal directly out, for some reason.

She saves the rebuttal for some other time he calls her out on productivity.


	9. Maniac

Ienzo wakes up with the ridge of the book imprinted into his cheek and words blurring into his hair. For the… well, the nth time seems appropriate.

He really should've expected the lack of data.

But if everyone was coming back, then she'd have to as well. The girl in white, with slightly less than clinical memories attached and that...

Well, if she saw Zexion, she was probably one of them. A different one, with no manic X in Naminé and wide blue eyes that are too easy to read even from memory.

He returns to the thick text, scribbling in shorthand notes to help her back.


	10. Moonlight

Naminé has only ever seen moonlight in an almost-natural state- dim, ominous, from a heart-shaped moon alone in a gaping wound of a sky.

She has seen moonlight shiver through long blue-gray bangs, has seen it dart out at Zexion's command to be replaced by a counterfeit sunlight that Naminé can't say she quite likes.

She focuses on the snippets of freedom, of a substitute to her planted memories and calmly traces the spell back to his hands and the sliver of moonlight caught in the metal beads on his chest.

Then the illusion will end and Naminé will be quietly asked out of his almost-embrace and back into the glare of the moon.


	11. Devil

"We're all devils here", Zexion says, and he quietly bats away Naminé's rebuttals without pause.

_The hero has killed, his best friend a traitor, have you ever doubted Marluxia or Larxene._

_Axel can only burn, the Replica's a puppet, he did bring down his own home world once …_

At this, her face falls to astonishment, the blue eyes shiver and Naminé curls up a bit further in her chair. She doesn't take her gaze off him, doesn't _quite_ voice the why- although by now, she has probably figured it out.

"So don't delude yourself any further. But at least, you know that even we can pretend to be amiable at times."

Zexion doesn't really notice, just for that one time, the analytical look in her eyes as she takes the pencil again.

* * *

A.N. – I wanted to write him as (a bit more) evil this time :P Disregarding the fact that this is fandom, we do tend to gloss over the fact that most if not all of Org. XIII were villains with style.

That said, considering I took this as a _pairing_ challenge… well, I can say I tried, haha. So thanks for reading, and I'll be seeing you around!


	12. Contagious

The contagion is slow, but it's there.

Maybe he doesn't reciprocate, but Zexion now doesn't mind the contact. Or does so to a much lesser degree. His comments are meant to be less stinging when Naminé can hear- which is pointless, dangerous, because he can't simply dismiss his abilities at such a banal stimuli.

And Zexion thinks he should care, or make a good attempt at pretending to, when he stops himself from smirking more often or spinning a lie tailored just for her-

But he doesn't for now. Not when there's still research to be done, or while she's still smiling close to him.


	13. Dearest

Zexion spares a withering look to the Replica. The kid's been warbling on for long enough about love or friendship while he's blissfully ignorant of all being a facsimile. And before he snaps back into defiance and spite, for the last second, he is still a bit dazed by _'his dearest'_ Naminé…

That's when Zexion insinuates some lie, some anything to shut the copied boy up. Or send him hunting for retribution, or anything but praise the witch-girl with such enforced devotion.

And while he watches the younger boy scamper off caught up in some emotion, Zexion plays around with the syrupy terms until he finds one that fits the girl better.

* * *

A.N. – and first completely-unrelated character cameo, hahaha. Cheers to you all for reading and I hope you've enjoyed it so far! :D


	14. Imagine

Naminé imagined his face to look a bit different with the bangs swept out. Not normal pair of blue eyes and a bemused expression-

But it is different, in the way of color dusting his face even as he remarks that _really, Naminé, you should be doing something better than-_

"Better than what?"

He smirks and leans backwards just a little, making the bluish bangs fall back on his face. She hides the disappointment well enough, until she notices that for once he's less than an arm's reach away and-

Zexion dodges away, _as usual, _Naminé thinks as they shift back to the routine.

* * *

A.N. – sorry for missing an update! I know, my reason's probably awful, but please accept the apologies? Oh, and a big cheer to sonicdisney for being extra-nice and leaving a review :)

So, that's all for now, and see you soon!


	15. Black

Naminé is accustomed to seeing Zexion always in stark black. But not herself, swallowed up by the thick material that makes her sink into the shadows. Then again, the cloak isn't hers. And Zexion looks scrawnier- if that's possible- without the enveloping garment. Less grave, the smirks mere expressions with less plans associated and she's just a girl with her friend.

The weight strikes her again- she's much too used to her airy dress. Much too used to not being suffocated by the draining black and feeling queerly on the verge of fading out.

He helps her out of it with a bemusedly polite smile and she watches him revert to the cold man he often is.

* * *

A.N. – ju~st on this side of on (local _for the win_) time. Hahaha xD


	16. Space

Zexion began his routine with her almost on the other side of the open door. Then barely a step in or two, just so that he was acting in accordance to his task. Then he'd be sitting at the same long table as Naminé, all the way on the other side and barely seeing her over the cover of his book.

Later, he's almost halfway along the white surface. Three-quarters, where her pensive smile looms over the text. Within her arm's reach, and here is where Zexion stops decreasing the space between them with a remark and a sly glance at the pale girl.

And then, he switches to watching Naminé make her own slow advance until she's almost leaning on her shoulder and he whispers the memories in her ear.

* * *

A.N. – chaos Saturday for me today. Sheesh, if I complain this much while I'm still a student, I'll be in deep trouble later on… but that's later on and not now, haha :) If you want to know, just ask, since it would be massively derailed for this.

As for this prompt… okay, I liked it more than usual. So… what are your thoughts in general up to now? Am I still as crazy as the first time around? Anything you miss/want back?

See you around!


	17. Speechless

Zexion is, despite his constant manipulations, nearly always _quiet_. Differing from _speechless_ as now, Naminé notes, because for once his silence isn't overconfident and planned.

For once, it's not them and their chores alone in the room- it's Zexion and his schemes. Naminé and her memories. The Replica and his smiles, leaning down in a friendly-loving bow to her. As programmed, as obliged…

And yet, Naminé can almost feel the discomfort from Zexion as she takes Replica's hands and rises to her feet, to his embrace. Can feel a jealous pulse, the denial behind the speechlessness-

Zexion stays for _longer than he intended_, the last in his lilt-less words.


	18. Quiet

Naminé can't quite stand silences. Which is irrational, Zexion muses, since most of what she usually hears are threats and malice, speckled with pantomimed affection and the flick of pages.

An inconvenience even, since Naminé would be so much more useful when bound by quiet. With no useless distractions from her task, with no external issues to concern her.

And still, when he's drawn the guard duty and leans on her doorway, Zexion will mutter on and on, just to keep her face from drawing into-

No, he doesn't speak because he, in some bizarre way, cares. He's spying for his own ends-

But even then, he tries to keep her comfortable and faking happiness, at the cost of his own safe silence.

* * *

A.N. – sheesh, the two themes were similar. And side-by-side. I still like this one :) So as always, thanks a lot for reading. Reviews are appreciated, but by no means necessary.

See you around, and thanks for sticking with me so far!


	19. Calm

The younger boy speaks, too loud for the stark rooms, and faces Zexion dead-on. The same tirades as ever, about fakeness and nothing really, the same volatile attitude barely kept in check by programming.

"At least, I get to care for her, for real", Replica states. Simple, double-edged as all words and Zexion has seen the flaw in it in less time than it takes for the words to vanish from the air. But he doesn't answer, doesn't even turn around with the usual poise to rebuke or argue.

The air shimmers with calm animosity and Zexion wonders why he even cares that, if only on that point, a clone has him beat.

* * *

A.N. – hey again. Nick-of-time updates are beginning to become the usual- silly me. Guess that if Nami doesn't make an appearance in one or two, it doesn't matter too much… or well, at least none of you argued when I pulled a similar trick the first time around. So yeah, thanks a million for reading, and cheers to you all :)


	20. Before the Storm

Naminé curls further under the blankets and snuggles a bit too close for Zexion's comfort. He rolls his eyes at the girl bundled up over his chest before resuming his watch over the cloudy skies.

"You do know that this is just a natural phenomenon that can't harm us inside a building-"

"I know, I know…"

She doesn't quite grin- it's not her style, since the grins are too loud and too blithe to really convey what Naminé means.

"But it is a good excuse for being like this."

"Hmph. I didn't think you'd go for such things."

He still holds her in the same position once the storm breaks beyond the windows.


	21. Dancer

Zexion knows well how to make dancers out of passersby- it's only a matter of wording, of a smirk now and then, a glamor cast at just the appropriate moment.

Then there's Naminé, the perpetual caged damsel, who has somehow-

She hasn't. Or at least, not without Zexion deciding that he's going to let her spin around with him in a slow dance where he does what she wants even when it's pointless. She hasn't melded to his wiles either, as she keeps twirling on and on in his arms.

For now, he just leads her in three-quarters time, wary for the turn when he's not guiding their steps anymore.

* * *

A.N. – due to black-out tomorrow, minor pause here. And more apologies for getting an awkward mix of low-quality internet and getting to go watch movies. So sorry…^^;

So, if you want to be beyond nice (okay, make that even more beyond), go support that. And if you leave a review, the local final exams are easier on the nerves ;) No forcing you anyways, since the point is that you enjoy this!

That said, as always: nothing belongs to me, credit goes to Square Enix, Disney, Nomura, et cetera. Just the running along bit. The challenge is Wishing-Fire's (although that's a bit obvious, given the description).


	22. Laughter

Larxene laughs, the sound pealing like blows across the white room. Naminé recoils a bit, raising a hand in self-defense, but no knives shoot out with the guffaws.

"Do you really mean to say to me that Zexion, of all non-people, cares about you? Please, I can't let the twerp get the fun of toying with you..."

The Nymph's fingers stretch out, cup her chin. A soft smirk instead of her fanged grins, and she mockingly throws some yellow strands of hair over her eyes.

"You see, he's even worse than I am."

She draws back, waves, pretends to blow a kiss in the air.

"So don't think those little 'kisses' mean a thing more than my knives."


	23. Blueberry

A.N. – oh man, I really had _no_ idea what to do for this prompt… and yeah, I just went with the ruling king of all clichés for the last line. But yeah, I guess that as far as I could work with this prompt, I liked how it came out._ Just_ as far as 'what on earth to do with blueberry' goes.

So sorry if it's mildly annoying, and thanks for reading!

* * *

Naminé picks out the blueberries daintily from the dessert, checking each in turn before eating them.

"They really aren't blue. A sad example of figurative language taking precedence over facts-"

"You take this too seriously, Zexion."

"Suppose I do…"

He darts out for the very last one on the plate, makes a narrow dodge to _not_ brush against her fingers that goes awry.

"But then, I'd miss out on all the other small metaphors. They still seem to be gross misunderstandings, mind you."

Naminé tilts her head with a grin and a mildly reproachful look.

"Say, you can't compare blue eyes like yours to the truly colorless skies…"


	24. Halloween

Zexion frowns unconsciously before rearranging the hat precariously balanced on Naminé's head. For being a world constantly in some sort of creative crisis, Halloween Town can't seem to look past the obvious for the costume illusions cast on arrival.

But Naminé does look nice in a black sorceress dress of a sensible length and with darkness playing tricks on her pale face. A surprised smile and a fleeting look at him-

Oh. Zexion takes a small bow, as if apologizing for still donning the Organization cloak instead of something suitably festive.

"I can't steal your spotlight, can I?", he says as he opens the wide double gates with a flourish and gently guides her into town.

And he doesn't really mind when she finds any small trinket of the place and pins it to his clothes, claiming it's some sort of stealth.

* * *

A.N. – cheers for more crazy prompts, eh? Oh, I didn't get that lazy with Zexion's lack of a costume (cue all of you saying _yeah, right_ or variations thereof), it's mostly that in 358/2, no-one gets cool Halloween Town costumes, so…

Bad excuse is bad. Still, you can have fun thinking up how Naminé decided to 'fix' him up a little. So thanks for reading, and see you around!


	25. Insanity

The white-on-white of her new prison plays tricks on Naminé's mind. They're mostly small ones, such as warping the spindly shadows into servants; sharpening crayons into so many knives.

But it's mostly lingering 'fear', and not true insanity. That would be painting the walls-

"_I'd like to think, Naminé, you'd do better than that"_

-or answering to the shadow leaning against any overcast corner. He's so far in the angles of grey hood one of his eyes and fray his neck. But Zexion has told her- in his own way- he died like so, so it makes sense.

A blink and he leaves, as he always did, with an almost-warm smile before sinking into darker backgrounds.


	26. Wedding

A.N. – full blown AU time, because else I have no idea on how to work this prompt out~ And making fun of me and my pseudo-romantic lined for the win. Now, if you guys don't mind me asking for a favor- do you know of any good ones? Or any that I could smile-and-lie my way into IC? In any case, thanks a bunch for reading!

* * *

Naminé always wore white. So for Zexion, seeing her in just another pale gown has no major effect. Or he swears it doesn't, as she glides towards him with the usual knowing smile.

Later on, when she's rid of the bouquet and the bells have finished reverberating in his eardrums, he leans in closer than usual.

"No matter what they say about a bride at her wedding, I liked you more with your usual dress."

He traces a ribbon with his fingers, keeping his eyes on hers.

"Because else, I'll keep thinking you'll run off back into the book I stole you from."

"I'll take the lyrical lines with me then, and ask for my Zexion back."


	27. Trapped

Every once in a while, Naminé will just patiently stand by the door. Edge forwards, run as fast as she can through deserted hallways, leap through a portal or two. Every once in a while, Naminé will reach the large double doors that she can't open alone or portal through.

And every once in a while, she'll meet Zexion there, propping the door open with a couple of lesser Nobodies and inviting her out of the pristine trap they both occupy.

Naminé can't pull the escaping tricks with him- but then again, she doesn't try.

She gets to hold him trapped in her arms instead.


	28. Maybe

Maybe they all had been lied to. Maybe Demyx's ranting about having hearts when trying to 'legally' slack off weren't all complete fallacies. Maybe the fact that Zexion still drops in, from time to time, just to share Naminé's company without much in the way of personal gain disproves a million theories.

But then he'll note how even the embraces don't have the completeness from those in memories or that Naminé's expressions don't flow smoothly enough. Or she'll point out his own coldness and earn only a scoff and a small illusion as a fix.

But still, the maybe holds.

* * *

A.N. – holy… I stuck to the limit on this one! Woot :) So, thanks for reading, any and all who are there, and hope you've enjoyed.


	29. Sea

Neither of them has seen the sea. Zexion has recited the definition from his lexicon, Naminé has drawn the snippets of it she sees from the heroes' memories- but the fact still holds that they've seen no such thing as the boundless body of water.

A couple of portals later and settling down on powdery sand, Zexion complains that this venture was a complete waste of time and resources. Naminé cringes, partly from the setting cold of nightfall and partly because the outdoors are truly alien to her.

But they remain there until Zexion is muffling his complaints between sweet nothings whispered into her hair and Naminé plays peek-a-boo with the silver-capped waves.

* * *

A.N. – darn one-environment characters for this, right? And I've had it with using the pick-up-line worthy phrases for a while, so you get this : ) Hope you liked it!


	30. Contained

Zexion doesn't really emote. Well, not that he can, as he is fond of reminding Naminé at times. Or when she embraces him, or states little declarations of what she thinks is affection.

But, contained as he is…

He wraps his arms around her, rests her head on his shoulder. Naminé returns the motion-

"You aren't doing it exactly right", she giggles before adjusting her position until they fit just so.

"It feels nice nonetheless."

He mumbles something into her hair- it might've been the same rebuttal as always, a literal sweet nothing…

Naminé feels how barely, feather-light, his arms tighten a bit before letting her go.


	31. Like Sugar

She is like sugar, in the sense that she draws everyone near. It's beyond magnetism, beyond syrupy memories and certainly beyond only Naminé. She wouldn't know what sweetness really is, without a heart.

Of course, that's incorrect. Zexion knows perfectly well that this is a taught trick, a trap set down with the fairy-sugar girl as bait and snare…

And well, he always did get told off for having a bit of a penchant for sweetness (although before it was sea-salt ice-cream instead of spun lies).

So he opens the door to her prison with a greeting and lets her wave him in.

* * *

A.N. – okay, I'm going on a bit of a break. Due to a trip coming up, in which I will have no access to the 'net… for two-ish weeks. So, if you see no updating for a while, that's why. I'm not one to leave stuff hanging indefinitely for real, despite being irregular on most updates ^-^;

That said, thanks as always for reading. Reviews are appreciated, but I won't be haranguing you for one- it's up to you, dear readers.

See you!


	32. Radiance

With a snap of his fingers, Zexion summons a spot of cool light over his hand. Naminé is suitably startled by the trick, caught unawares by the possibility of attack or by the incongruous radiance.

Of course he doesn't tell her it's an illusion. But he does mention, in a passing comment, that it would burn if she touched it, let her gaze linger on it too long-

Although why he warns her is up in the air. Everyone else learned that to their own peril, maybe even himself.

He smothers the glow before Naminé can see that he isn't exactly nonchalant about it.

Promises under a smirk that well, he can spare an illusion card or two on the little spell for her.

A.N. – well, for a start, sorry for the long absence! Was out of the 'net and all… so thanks for staying here and thanks for reading!

That said, reviews are really appreciated, but it's up to you to leave one.

Again, many thanks for reading, and see you around!


	33. Fallen

There are still a couple empty seats in Naminé's room, despite the fact that she is (mostly) the only occupant.

There are still whispers flitting around, muddled under the silken whip of windblown curtains and the scratch of pencils. Of course, there are still answers too- half there, as befits both the girl and the extra shadows.

_The thing is_, Zexion says from a shaded corner, _you've always been aware of the fallen._

_Against your liking, isn't it?_

Naminé barely looks at him, thinking her answer through.

"Only way to see you…"

_And here, I thought you were beyond illusions, Naminé…_

"The thought is mutual."


	34. Kingdom

Zexion still speaks of kingdom come in monotone, and still makes sure to lace sarcasm in as much of the belief-laden statement as he can. He'd know, he says to Naminé only half-paying attention to the cadence of his words, since…

There he halts, always just a breath, and Naminé knows his eyes are on her. Can almost see his thoughts waltz out of step before the previous idea is carried on.

But there is affection to his words after that, and they fall curiously together into reveries of a future beyond the bleached castle walls on kingdom come.


	35. Paopu

Naminé has to stop distributing the paopu charms so easily.

Now, credit where it's due, Zexion thinks as he adds up all the allies she gains by such a simple move. The hero and company, the puppet…

And why even give one to the latter, if he's already wrapped around her little fingers on memories and programmed promises- why not-?

Zexion sighs in as much of annoyance as he can muster, and dismisses the thought of even wanting one of the star-shaped charms. Such a distraction, and to one such as him…

Then the Replica zips past with the toy in his hands and a grin on his face and Zexion just has to snap back the illusion of the trinket hovering over his palm.

* * *

A.N. – because I just realized that this random collection of texts masquerading as a fic has followers, my many (and most heartfelt) thanks to: _sonicdisney, Midnight Rising, tundraeclipse,_ _Haos Claw_ and _Muffcakeloverxiii_. Means a lot, and really, thank you.

As for the more general stuff: thanks to you too for reading (props if you made it even down here :). The characters belong to Square-Enix… I have no idea who came up with the pairing originally, but yeah, it wasn't me, I just happen to like it… and the challenge was created Wishing-Fire.

Been long since I wrote up the full disclaimer thingy. So cheers again, reviews are appreciated (but there's no way I'm enforcing that on you!) and be seeing you around!


	36. Kiss

The kiss itself was exceptionally average. Barely a brush of the lips, breaths caught between them and a blink dragging on for a second or so. Fairly empty, as far as kisses go, but still with some gravity to it.

Then Zexion draws back, retreating behind his fringe. Naminé twirls her pencil, feels words bubble and fade on her mouth.

A glimpse, an after-image of the action just past and-

They tried to catch themselves from repeating it. They dismissed it with excuses, with research to be done and the proper way to code such a thing into memory.

The second one has no perceptible improvement over the first.

* * *

A.N. - because this is, lo and behold, the first proper 'on-screen' love-y drabble here. And of course, they kind of fail at it xD

And thanks to Muffcakeloverxiii for her review last chapter!

That said, another round of thanks to you all for tuning in again, and I'll be seeing you soon!


	37. Passion

Naminé watches the Replica go through his usual motions with her, of greetings and deep devotion. Watches Sora go on and on through each and every floor between them, passion rolling off him like heat waves and tangible enough for her to be caught up in rebellion and send memories fluttering off the newly-forged chain.

And across the stretch of pale table, Zexion watches her watch them, sneering at the overly emotional display. He doesn't lash out with sarcasm, not yet, even when he can also sense the rampant feelings in stark contrast to the nothingness he can offer to her.

He still soundlessly opens a portal for her, to let her visit her adoring subjects, and only once she's out of sight does he complain that, for all his effort, he isn't any closer to getting his heart back.


	38. Disappoint

Naminé is a professional at secrecy. Maybe it's because, as she phrases it, there isn't too much to conceal- but _she_ tells the story, so maybe she has her own skeletons swept under the sketches.

There are half-drawn memories tinted with worry and guilt from her hands.

There are polite reprimands dancing between threats- there is a vague ghost of another shadow, disappointed in her for the whimsical misgivings and…

Before she dismisses it as the hero or the replica, before she replies that anyways it was all pantomime, Naminé changes. A small quiver in the façade, to when it was a girl and a researcher discussing existence and parting with stilted sweetened smiles- a disappointment, because for all his 'knowledge' he still failed _her_ and-

_No, he didn't matter_; she says with her coy grin and pretends she isn't hiding behind a pitiful veil of sunlight-blond bangs.

* * *

A.N. – 'cos it's still valid if one of them doesn't get mentioned by name. And, since I'm not sure if I've done this little trick before, I'm throwing in the excuse here. So sorry if this has happened before and I just danced around little loopholes.

And as always, thanks a million for reading! Oh, and if you'd like to leave a review, it would be awesome and all… but I'm not going to pressure any of you. I'm happy if it's read.

So thanks for all, and see you around!


	39. Fantasy

For a lark, Naminé tells Zexion of her fantasies. There's freedom, there's friendship, there's…

There simply are fantasies woven behind her eyes, lying deep in dream-sky blue and perishing before they can flow in her words.

Zexion knows of them though, or at least makes enough educated guesses at their existence. In answer, he raises a small illusion, of some adequate location and glances at her.

As far as he sees, she seems pleased. Confused, because why would he do this- and really, he is asking the same thing.

But for now, he loses himself in the fantasy of feeling something and just catching the echoes of the witch-girl's dreams.


	40. Love

Naminé seeks affection like a lifeline, with abandon and young-girl selfishness.

It's the effect without the cause- Zexion has told her, in somewhat less blunt terms, that she's an empty shell. That emotions will sweep by her side until…

Oh, he's run her through the speech a million times already, with varying degrees of bluntness. Has marveled at the bouts of guilt, at the flickers of care and maybe even confessed to-

To liking her in more than passing, as more than research. To not really feeling a thing at all, but acting up as best as he can when near her.

And as he mirrors the snippets of stolen love towards her, he has a shadow of care for the slightly cheapened feelings.

But that might just be thinking like she does.

* * *

A.N. – I fail. This had a zillion awful drafts; got the word limit blown to kingdom come and I still can't get around the idea of using 'love' itself as the prompt. And I took the whole challenge up for a pairing OTL.

But I did it :) So yay for me, and yay for you for making it through that.

Tune in tomorrow, 'kay?


	41. Plushie

A.N. – 'cos else this drabble makes even less sense. There is a little Nami-doll-plushie in, well, her room, inside a cage. Since I'm lousy at remembering details, it may or may not be in the game proper… pretty sure it is, but in case it isn't, cue this A.N. It's here just so that you don't think I'm _that_ delusional.

Oh, and I think this one is kind of cute… author's entitled to her own opinion, right?

Now that's out of the way, on with the show and hope you enjoy!

* * *

The delicate cage standing sentry in Naminé's room is the only piece that serves no function there. Within it, a little effigy of the girl itself sits limp, smile sewn forcefully in and almost falling through the bars.

Of course it would, in a way, annoy Zexion. Now, Naminé imagined it would be in the logical way- a waste of resources; an appeal to emotions that just aren't there, a pointless show of power…

Then he stretches a hand, removes the stuffed-toy witch. Freezes for a moment, caught in darkness-knows-what, before flickering back and forth into a pensive smile and setting the dainty thing on the large desk cluttered with their things, leaning against one of his tomes.

"Much better", he says, before returning to his books to search for a logical reason for his behavior, Naminé thinks.


	42. Vain

Now, Repliku knew going against Sora was pretty much in vain- too many plans hinged on that (against his liking), too much of him mattered to Naminé.

Then, there's the Nobody sneaking in. There's Zexion drawing her into another web, more sickly-sweet deceits and…

If Naminé can actually fall for that façade, he's good. But not good enough, not ever good enough for her and Repliku makes a sort-of vow to halt his progress.

And he masks the way his chest breaks a little when Naminé almost smiles when speaking of Zexion in the rare off-times between sketches.

_But_, he thinks, _it won't hurt for long._

* * *

A.N. – **Muffcakeloverxiii**, you're awesome. Thanks for the review and thanks for liking it! (Plus extra thanks for just rolling with my crazy ideas :)

As for all of you who keep reading this, cheers! It really isn't the same without you.

On other notes: yup, Repliku got another cameo. The whole drabble went tangential to the prompt (as usual…). And again, I hope I'm not that insane.

Tune in next time!


	43. Confidence

Keeping their meetings in confidence is an easier task than fathomed.

Zexion just drapes the illusions around differently, concealing the last glimmers of fairy dust on Naminé's shoulders and sweeping away the remnants of outdoors plucked straight from a book.

Naminé just makes memories spin around in the air until they slip from the room and not even the smiling pictures on the wall remember the slow, stylized dances or the way she conned Zexion into holding her close.

So, keeping all behind closed doors isn't an issue.

But keeping the edge of razor-obvious smiles and the small flicker of warmth secret might just be.

* * *

A.N. – woot for other meanings for the word! (Because I think I already had Zexion as an arrogant guy, and if not, I just didn't feel like it for today).

And, for you lucky people out there in the US, happy 3D release day. If you have the game, go kick heartless rear. If you don't plan on getting the game, go watch the cutscenes or something, since you're now officially not spoiling a thing :)

As always, thanks for reading, leave a review if you want, and aside from the vague attempts at plot in each of the drabbles, nothing belongs to me (challenge is Wishing-fire's, characters are Square Enix's).


	44. Cuddle

Zexion sniggers every time Naminé tries to draw herself closer to him, without fault. From lingering overtime with their hands brushing over a pen; legs nearly tangling together under the not-wide-enough desks or any other type of physical contact- he sweeps them away with irony and turns of phrases that are not softened enough.

And then, when the hours blur together at length and the jailor shift begins to end, it'll be him almost seeking a last near-embrace or fiddling with the pencils for long enough for her hand to catch his.

He always denies he actually doesn't dislike the cuddles.

And Naminé actually follows through with his bluffs at times, just to see him fluster in front of her for a little while.


	45. Vanilla

For all her power, Naminé is still plain vanilla, as she's heard around. The colloquialism is dated, curling sweet with antiquity and it is vaguely annoying.

And logically, she asks Zexion- mostly because such a thing has to be in his book and he doesn't seem overly prone to barbed jokes over such a trifle of a question.

The definition isn't overly pleasing- but then, it was something Larxene had said in her charitable moods.

"Now, don't act as if such a description can affect you in any way Naminé. It's only words-"

"And, apparently, an ice-cream flavor-"

"Yes. But nothing really."

"Do you have any favorite?" Naminé fires that question fast into the air, mostly out of wanting some more of the sedate company than out of real curiosity.

"It used to be sea-salt", is his curt reply, and Naminé ignore the fuzzy echo in her mind that resents it not being vanilla.

After all, it doesn't really matter.


	46. Life

The dead boy sits quiet across the table, translucent in the sunlight and smirking at Naminé like always.

"So, how has life been treating you?"

There is some amusement in the brittle voice. Naminé answers with a pointed look at the nearly-identical white surroundings, the walls plastered with drawings and Zexion still perched on a high-backed chair speaking to her.

"Well, you did get what you wanted", he says gliding over to her and leaning close.

"I'm not complaining."

Before he leaves into dust motes, he traces his hand over a monochrome sketch of a young man with dark-blue hair in much the same position as he was before.


	47. Bleed

In a way, she never expected Zexion to bleed. Maybe Naminé did expect the slightly mystified expression on his face, but that might just be because of all things, he had to battle and came out mildly disheveled.

But Naminé does expect his complaints when she produces a couple of potions and assists him with cleaning up and mending the small tears in the skin. Does expect his annoyance at her standing near, or seeing him in a not-pristine state.

_You don't actually look that bad_, Naminé thinks she says, thinking about the unbroken matte feel of the cloak and the way he even leans slightly away from her.

Zexion manages a laugh at that before sweeping himself away from the wall with a _thank you_ muttered in a whisper leant closer to her.


	48. Nightmare

On and on he walks through endless corridors- because even the inside of Darkness looks like trembling lanes. On and on, up and up and never getting anywhere.

In nightmare logic, it makes sense. Following the ghost clad in white along the labyrinth, disregarding the monotony and the assaults of something akin to feelings.

It's karma, Zexion muses, and he should be above such paltry things. The guide also is wrong- it most definitely shouldn't be a girlish figure with pale blond hair.

In normal logic, he had been looking for a heart. In normal logic, he just died- and therefore, this is limbo, judgment day-

In nightmare logic, it's all that slipping away on almost-Naminé's grip.

But he's above such things.


	49. Sorry

"Sorry", Zexion barely breathes out. He's as far away as he can go without breaking the faint contact of her hand; the volume is muted as much as possible, yet he's fairly sure that Naminé still heard him say such a _pointless_ thing.

"What for?"

A roll of the eyes- he is not being so careless as to give in to pantomime more times in such a short succession.

"Nothing, since I have no need for forgiveness and neither do I care about such-"

She snags the argument with a smile.

"But you do care about _something_, right?"

"Now, that is for you to find out", and he hides in the smirk the _maybe you _implied.


	50. Duck

Amusingly enough, Naminé is of the appropriate shortness to make Zexion duck to meet her face for a smile or a whisper or anything really.

Amusingly for her, that is. She unconsciously smirks a bit- _now, that isn't what princesses in towers are meant to wear_- and makes wild attempts at teasing her companion.

And despite her actually mentioning- in passing, and with some hopeful tricks of the mind involved- the fact that he only has to do such a thing due to some outdated good manners, Naminé has never seen Zexion change his conduct.

Amusingly for both, neither of them wants to.


	51. Holiday

Zexion never thought that a lack of holidays was anything else than logical. He could've even said that letting a day slip through the fingers of procrastination was dismaying, back when he could feel and even up to a couple of months ago.

A couple of months ago, being when… well, he had met Naminé in roughly that time frame, hadn't he?

And either ways, it wasn't like he- of all people- was actually leaving his research by the side (she could almost even summarize the latest thesis if asked). He was just… interested in other investigations-

"Hello", Naminé chimes in with a slightly weary smile- the others have decided to put her abilities to use as soon as possible.

And, just for coincidence, he is quite intrigued by her powers- emphasis (oddly) enough on her.


	52. Silk

She is silk-soft under his hand, even taking in account the fact that Zexion is wearing gloves and that her hands have been roughened by zealous pencils and constant drawing.

Silk-soft and silk cold, but he can't really expect warmth from Naminé, same as she doesn't mind that he's always glacial on contact.

And as he lets time slip between their entwined hands; as he caresses seconds away over the sleek bones of her fingers, Zexion is mindful of how she reciprocates the action with less reserves than he does, with more openness and…

Well, he doesn't doubt her quiet strength if she's here.

* * *

A.N. – thanks to Taliax for reviewing! Means a lot :)

And as always, thanks to all who read this small drabble amalgamation and don't mind the crack pairing that much.

See you next time!


	53. Touch

Now, Naminé isn't one to go around touching everything. At least, not physically- she's managed to leave marks on every-thing-one already with words and smiles and phantom-tears.

But this time, when the sunset paints her new white prison in blood-red and gold, she tries to thread her fingers through stubbornly blue-slate locks. Tries to catch a touch, even a fleeting one, of cobwebby hair, or a snicker as he drawls (as always) something about disliking contact.

Neither of them happens. Naminé's hand goes almost through Zexion- she's had either the sense to stop or was surprised into inaction.

It isn't at his lack of solidity- he always seemed that way, even when 'alive'.

It's at the almost longing look on his face, sad and more boyish than seems probable.

"I believe I have been proved right", he sighs, and sinks into the sunset with his hand hovering near hers.

* * *

A.N. – 'cos I went and just realized that yesterday's drabble was a sort of fusion with this one xD

More thanks to Taliax for being absolutely awesome and leaving another review! I'm beyond honored. And of course, thanks to you readers – fic'ing isn't the same without you guys.

'Till next time!


	54. Gingerbread

The world is pathetically gaudy and sickeningly adorable- but Christmas Town is one of the few places that most members of the Organization are loath to explore.

Zexion can see why, even if it currently isn't his main focus, as he saunters with Naminé almost-hanging on his arm. The girl doesn't flit from display to display, granting her attention to a few of them but mostly just retreating into the warmth-by-comparison of his long black cloak.

They end up in a cramped café dripping with tinsel and gingerbread scents. He picks it- she is his charge, after all, and is suitably pleased by the ambience and the hearty food served to her by tiny smiling elves.

And Zexion is more lenient towards the place _solely_ because the rosy glow inside has an aesthetical effect on her smile.

* * *

A.N. – Taliax, I'll keep thanking you for the reviews~ Guess you should be expecting this already :) And yeah, unseasonal drabble is woefully unseasonal, but I swear on Mickey that was the prompt.

To all my dear readers, thanks for reading (of course)! As always, hope you liked it… something about reviews, something about disclaimers and I think that's it for now.

Tune in next time!


	55. Breakfast

Breakfast is still a drowsy affair, even for the Nobodies. Why this singular aspect of biology chose to remain eluded everyone.

Naminé didn't mind it all that much- it allowed her to take her duties a tad easier, with no-one hovering with a menace at hand.

It also allowed her- much to Zexion's annoyance, as he phrases it after some caffeine- to slip in a couple of caresses, to giggle without a reprimand. To reply, smoothly and with some borrowed edge, that he doesn't seem to mind her actions too much, or that he even leans a bit more into the interactions.

And instead of answering as cuttingly as always, Zexion just rolls his eyes and lets her continue so long as the morning-haze lasts.

He'll have time to be his colder self later, after all.

* * *

A.N.- this prompt wasn't as hellish as I thought it would be, but I still didn't like it too much :P Think everyone got even more OoC'd than usual…

In any case, thanks for reading! And miss Taliax is on a review roll, so my deepest thanks to her *hug*

See you soon!


	56. Ache

Naminé can't say the way Zexion taps out a pulse on her ribcage hurts. Neither do the whisper-light fingers tracing the curve of her collarbone, the cradling angle of his arms or the wavering cadence of their breathing.

She can't say it hurts, but maybe it pulls on her mostly-empty chest. Maybe it aches with the fact that despite the attempt, he's still cold. Or because she's just waiting for his act to scatter like so many times before in shards of denial while hers holds on for a bit longer in the embrace.

But for now, for the moment that he isn't quite caring and not really indifferent, she just smiles a bit into his fringe and doesn't bother with pulling it away.

He feels real enough for now.

* * *

A.N. – I just have no idea. But I like it anyways…

_Taliax_, I'll just keep thanking you. 'Awesome' fell short; you pick an appropriate adjective :)

As for everyone, thanks as well for reading! Same as always, in loose legalese, only the attempts at plot/the drabbles belong to me- characters to Square-Enix/Disney where due, challenge to Wishing-Fire and the pairing to whomever was the first person who coined it… I know I didn't xD

See you real soon and have a grand time!


	57. Why

Why he even cares for Naminé is only half a mystery.

Zexion makes fancy theories about enjoying his due power, or small essays on psychology and memories. Manages to halfway believe in his own words- which is as good as anything else, since he can't do anything else with solid proof and no heart.

It's better that way even.

It doesn't hang heavy with denial and loopholes to dance through when someone draws near. It's a useful cover for the way he allows Naminé to take his hand; a pretext worthy of him setting up an elaborate act of emotions and…

No. It most definitely is just a cover.


	58. Night

They didn't realize night had fallen until they heard the click of someone else's steps.

Or rather, they might just have. Naminé might have noticed how she leaned in breaths and blinks closer in to Zexion's shoulder. He might've noticed how he's cleared away some of the clutter of work and not really paid attention to which spiral-notebooks were hers or his. They might've been aware of dozing off in the space of a breath; of the way that somehow they've ended up physically close even when it doesn't hold any meaning.

Neither one shifts immediately away- Naminé deems Zexion a comfortable pillow (privately, for he can pretend to have a temper at times); Zexion deems it unnecessary after the steps fade off into the distance and it's not like he dislikes the feel of her curling against him.

And under his breath, almost loud enough to hear, he amends that it's not like he particularly cares if she is that close to him.


	59. Dawn

It takes more jailer shifts than Zexion cares to remember. It takes a million snapshots of sedate smiles and a similar amount of words wasted in metaphors. It takes sketches snuck in between pages of his lexicon and brushing dust off white lies for the white witch.

It wasn't possible for such a thing to happen, he muses as he stands at the edge of the dark corridor. Not even for Naminé, anomalous as she is…

Then he crosses the threshold, catches her still curled over a half-done picture before she breaks into a relieved smile.

And for this time, he couldn't stop the dawning realization that maybe his pantomime might've gone too far and he can't quite muster enough care for that.


	60. Yours

"This yours?"

"Use proper grammar, Replica. And 'this' is such a vague-"

A drawing is vigorously waved in front of Zexion's face with utter disregard to the experiment being carried out. It isn't any sort of informational diagram, it isn't done in a meticulous enough hand and the lines are crayon instead of ratty ball-point.

Not like Zexion would draw anything similar to a girl that looks suspiciously like Naminé next to a person somewhat resembling himself.

"That does so happen to be mine. Now, if you will leave it where you found it without-"

"Why did Naminé give it to you?"

A sly grin- this he can manage.

"Oh, she has her reasons… "

He can hide the fact that she drew the pose from near-memory quite well this time.


	61. Mine

"What do you plan on doing when you have a heart again Zexion?"

The look Naminé receives isn't withering enough. But it certainly is somewhat stern and, if she is any judge, a bit off-kilter. Same as the silence, but she'd expect that one- the answer has to be well though.

"I shall lock it, to prevent any subsequent damage. And then I'd resume the experiments while more aware of the dangers."

"I thought-"

"That it would be something more fanciful? I shall leave that to you, since you prefer such activities… after all, I know you'll have a copy of the key."

The last doesn't really come off with the sarcastic sneer of everyday, but with a flawed softness and a lack of direction that might've just been at her.

But Naminé just assumes he means the actual plans.

* * *

A.N. - aaand I got a chapter eaten by :P Sorry! But anyways, thanks for reading and see you around!


	62. Ours

Naminé overhears a random comment, in passing, that of course liars band together. Magically-aided deceit for all; and that picking Zexion of all nobodies for wasting time was an expectedly dull choice on her part, but obvious in the end.

She'd like to share illusions, the comment said.

"Even when in actual fact we don't? Such is the lackluster wit of the traitors…"

"Zexion, they are at least a bit alike."

"Maybe so, but memory and my powers are quite distinct concepts…"

He loses himself for a moment in thought, casting a small glance at her with a bit less arrogance than usual. He resumes speaking as if he's granting her a favor, with a smaller smirk and half-jesting warmth.

"However, if you so wish, you might say that illusion is, in a very small part, ours. But only so far as your new drawings go."

* * *

A.N. - oh man, I had seriously no idea about what to do with the prompt. So I'm not entirely sure about this one, but I tried... ^-^; Thanks for reading!


	63. Scarlet

The last thing Zexion sees through the haze of dying darkness is scarlet. So logically, the eternal bloody sun of Twilight Town displeases him, to act the least.

It doesn't have such an effect on Naminé, who is apparently thrilled by the permanent color in the heavens and spends many a page on slick sunsets and blushing dusks that never fade to black.

So, while she works diligently away all her previous labor, Zexion will just sit and watch the sunsets and try to decipher just what she sees in the limbo between day and night.

And once in a while, he'll comment that her renditions are less annoying, if only because she spent so much effort on another piece.


	64. Clumsy

Zexion isn't clumsy, despite having severely hindered vision. By choice, of course- he didn't need to rely on only sight.

And therefore, when he stumble-leans a bit into Naminé's embrace, it is not entirely an accident. When the careful neutral mask flickers a bit- in surprise _only_, since he is above tripping of all things- it isn't accidental either.

But he carefully hides it under a couple of pretexts, a wound from the battlefield acting up…

"Naminé, occupying a potion on such a trivial issue is not necessary-"

"I'm still a bit-"

"You can't be worried."

"Then… I don't want a close… acquaintance injured?"

"You'll have to do better than that."

He _acts_ clumsy- again- when she decides to interpret that as another excuse for closeness.

* * *

A.N. – I don't like this one too much, but… eh. Thanks for reading, and double thanks to Taliax and BlazingKaiogra for leaving a review! *hug*

See you around!


	65. Soul

A.N. – just found out 'dearest' is repeated (derp)… so I'll just go random on this. From the 101 theme challenge (just picked one), drawing a random number, I got 'Soul'. Now that's settled, here we go!

(It might still go tangential, but I tried…)

Thanks for reading, and hope you enjoy!

* * *

He doesn't envy Naminé's situation, of having a living project with a soul that claws at rationality. Maybe he does echo back with some envy at the emotions, at the deeper masquerade Naminé can carry when she's sunk deep into pages and pages of makeshift care and borrowed spirit.

Zexion has tried it for himself, when in her presence. Not on her own projects- he doesn't invest in the traitors' plans, not even for Naminé. But he deals with her like she'll affect him to a greater extent than just the physical, draws on more memories for the actions to take around her to…

See her smile? Drop the charade? No, it's not exactly one of them…

But he does feel something pull at him for a moment before he dismisses it as a reminder to get back to proper work.


	66. Anything

Zexion is usually entirely willing to do anything.

Then again, _anything_ would refer to tactical moves. And the end result has to do with regaining a heart or furthering another project (and it's not like he wouldn't do that anyways, if he stops chasing the data away with excuses). _Anything_ is mostly details with moral repercussions that he doesn't care for; little qualms against deceptions and tar-thick lies that he dismisses with grins and darkness.

He'll bicker about the last with Naminé, on the long stretches where she is convinced she has the requisite heart for that. But only argue and, and-

He shouldn't have issues against holding her hand or her lean-tos along his arms. And maybe he doesn't, since the sensation is almost enjoyable…

But he'd rather avoid anything that can prove him wrong at the moment.

* * *

A.N. – I'm officially one year older as of today… me and (roughly) my status as a fanfic writer. Haven't gone any places yet lol.

As always, thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed, and hope that you weren't too annoyed by my using a bit of a cop out with the repeated theme.

See you around!


	67. Cloud

Naminé realizes she let Zexion's lecture about science go on for too long when he's devolved into discussing the little clouds of warm vapor over her hot drink. He sounds approximately as bored as always- in all probability, he is, but hasn't kept quiet for some reason.

Naminé doesn't stop him because the sound of his voice is somewhat pleasing, maybe even reassuring. He doesn't lie about science on principle or by definition- and he is probably as fond of the sound of his voice as she might be.

Still, she tries making the conversation drift away- succeeds after a couple of biting comments and jibes at not tolerating proper work…

But at least Zexion said that smiling, if she could call his expression that.

* * *

A.N. – man, did I ever go tangential to the prompt here… but I snuck 'cloud' in once! Victory~! And thanks for reading, as always, hope you enjoyed.

See you next time!


	68. Button

A.N. – I can't think of a single (clothing) button in a Kingdom Hearts game. Seriously. Anything I remember has zippers dripping off it, but no buttons. And as for the mechanical things… my memory is hazier, but I don't think there were too many of those either… Point is: Wishingfire went out to troll us here? Thought it out as an AU?

And now I stop whining and get on with the best attempt at using the prompt. It probably won't be any good, but I can try, right? On with the show and hope you enjoy!

* * *

Naminé knows which buttons to press on people. A couple of smiles, a line here or there and keying a couple of delicate lies and there she goes with another pawn shoved into her hands.

It's a bit of the wrong phrase, but she likes it. Goes well with how she feels. Goes well with the off-hours use she gives her ability, the experimental expressions directed at Zexion of all people.

He'd appreciate the 'science' in it, even if not the bit where he is the test subject. The bit where, contrary to their expectations, it does sort of work- in a flustered, convoluted way that…

Well, he's no adequate lover, to use Larxene's terms, but he's quite kind after the third-or-so smile takes effect.


	69. Bowl of Grapes

A.N. – seriously, and forgive the continued whining… 'bowl of grapes'? I suppose Wishingfire was really out to troll us…

But anyways, on with the show! Taliax, thanks for reviewing :) And also thanks to you all for taking the time to read through this!

* * *

As far as drawing subjects go, a bowl of grapes isn't an interesting one. Naminé is accustomed to vibrant people and a plethora of battlegrounds as her muses, and seeing such a common object is odd at the very least.

But it's only practice, a small respite from her labors even if she's still guarded. Across from her, Zexion sits and reads- another book on theory, by the look of it, since he's chained himself tight to his 'job'. Naminé thinks it isn't entirely voluntary, but it's something and at least he's quiet about being stuck with her.

And also pretty still.

So on a whim; she waltzes from the outline of the fruit to the person in front of her, sketching in the messy hair and the pages of the thick tome. It's more amusing, and she doesn't suppose…

He isn't drastically affected by the memory-magic in the lines. But he does complain- at a bit of a length- about the quality and her slacking off.

But he looks- or pretends to look- a bit thrilled at being mimicked on a page.


	70. Her

"Zexion, you are distracted. _Again_."

The alluded person doesn't pay heed to the accusation- instead; he simply continues the procedure and jots down in shorthand a couple of minor reactions.

"Most definitely am not distracted."

"You've filled in the wrong boxes, in the wrong book, and I don't recall any compound that begins with Nami-"

That gets the preferred effect. The younger scientist looks flustered for a moment, faltering in the smooth motions for data recording and overturning a couple of notebooks.

"I have… personal research regarding her, Vexen."

"Hmph. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were interested in her. Now fill in the information, properly, and cease the act about her mattering. Not like she can see."

* * *

A.N. - … I do love going tangential to the prompts. Pairing very nearly not present, for reasons I'm still in the process of computing. Also, random cameo overtook the whole thing. But I kind of like it still :)

Thanks for tuning in for another round of the fic, hope you enjoyed and see you around!


	71. No

"I have no need of such a thing, Naminé. Refrain from-"

_From continuing their charade,_ he's about to say. Except that he's is adamant about the fact that he doesn't genuinely care whether she wastes time away on those fancies. And that as far as leisurely activities go, spending time with her is…

"Allow me to rectify. I have no need of such a thing, but neither am I averse to it, so long as it isn't disturbing me."

She takes her time, looping lines of crayon over and over in her sketch. It's pleasing enough, seeing her have her priorities straight enough, but Zexion finds himself willing the drawing faster until she's close and almost holding hands with him.

And he repeats, once more in his mind, that _no, he remains neutral to her despite everything._

* * *

A.N. – _sonicdisney_, thanks for the review! And to all of you readers, thanks for reading (…redundancy for the win) and see you guys soon!


	72. Empty

The relationship is sterile, empty and just so many spun lies held together by a pen and a page.

The held hands are bleached and cold. The love words are stilted and dripping with disbelief and sarcasm; when they are said, that is, and not just implied in Naminé's sketches. Most of the time, they go bubble in monotones and softened edges to the dark, or fluttering valiance from the girl in syllables with almost-life inked in them. The embraces, when they happen, are still uncomfortable- Zexion hasn't perfected the technique yet, and he is generally adverse towards more practice.

But they find themselves investing so much in the empty thing, trying to fill it with little droplets and attempts to see if one day it finally reaches half-full.

For now, they just sit close and he murmurs sweet nothings into her ear.


	73. Pearl

_Pearls are made out of continuous irritation_, reads the book open on Zexion's lap. Or something close enough to it- he's paraphrasing to take his mind off the empty white room with the half-empty girl.

White on cream and pearly-gray and he _isn't_ trying to link Naminé to a semi-precious gem. Even when the relation is there, if he were to follow the clichés and the deluded echo in his mind. Eerily beautiful for their actual 'definition' and just about as rare. With the same quality of growing on a subject by virtue of constantly wreaking quiet chaos.

But- and here he's thought it past the point of instant denial- Naminé has grown on him, if only a little.

* * *

A.N. – I keep doing the tangential stuff. And I keep somehow liking them. Sorry?

And thanks to Taliax and sonicdisney for reviewing, before I forget :)

See you soon, thanks for reading and have a nice day!


	74. Puzzle

They flick cues over and over between the pages. They card hints between held hands, or encrypt diluted care into the scripts. If they got away with it that is- but Zexion is a master by training, and Naminé is a natural at hiding her tracks.

And then, with pieces gathered, they try to scramble the puzzles together, his arms loosely slung around her waist and her hands trying to draw a starry sky into his hair.

She is beating him- by both their counts, although he claims it's only because by definition, he is missing too many pieces already.

"Oh, but I'll add them back."


	75. Trust in Me

They are wary from _'trust in me'_, once they know just how many lies the vow of confidence holds. Once they've slipped a little betrayal in, once they've set up a façade where Naminé is yet again the dearly beloved and Zexion slinks behind the scenes with a smile and a pen on the script.

They have shared the stories, him regaling her with the life of a young scientist (but not a mere boy), or with little snapshots of a world or two that are no more. She has penned many a memory with him by her side, trailing the _'trust in me'_ like tinsel over a page.

So they don't say it to each other, and try to go by on implications and so many breaks in denial.


	76. Masquerade

Naminé is well-acquitted with the deeper layers of the masquerade, following the ribbons of plots up and down the castle from her seat in the white room.

She's also an adept at unraveling them, although she takes some time to do so. Mostly because of requiring careful analysis- and oh, she's borrowed that from him.

Same as many things, now that she thinks about it. A hidden penchant for vocabulary, or a knack for disguising herself well under costumes and illusions within the memories. Some enthusiasm for science, even if it'll never reach the degree of attention Zexion pays to it.

A nuanced play of hearts, where she's still trying to decipher what he is thinking-doing as he softly coerces her into dancing a sedate waltz.

She's said she liked this before, didn't she?


	77. Unicorn

Zexion had dismissed the ideas of unicorns and other fantasy beings as most ridiculous at an exceedingly young age. It came with being a long-time scientist first and by losing his heart second- that had been a surefire way to stress the dangers of the supernatural.

And yet, in this particular moment, when Naminé is busy playing with his bangs and he is inexplicably holding her in a loose embrace…

He can't say he's returned to such a frivolous pastime. But he sees a bit of the merit in them, if only when she's spending some seconds in his arms.


	78. Wonderland

Zexion can make a wonderland out of anywhere- it's part of him, even if only in technicalities.

But he takes wonderland as the abyssal woods, as the lingering panic in nothingness and whimsical dangers that tear at the mind. Most of the time, at least, that's all he can manage. Or is willing to do- charming is part of the greater illusion.

And then there is the witch-queen. Or Naminé, or princess if he's up to dropping a subtle tease lost in the shifting fantasy. She manages to tame the savage dreamland into something almost sweet, can make him lead her deep into a nonsensical haven for one-and-a-half.

But when she leaves, not all the colors fade and the small remnants lingering taunt Zexion into thinking that he isn't as aloof as he is now.


	79. Doll

At first, Naminé was almost literally a doll in Zexion's eyes. Aesthetically appealing, and sitting meek in the corner as if she was on display, drawing over and over. Sometimes she'd hum a little tuneless thing, sometimes she'd whisper a small diluted-acid comment out into the room.

He fixed that, in a way. Naminé can now saunter convincingly, and if she tries she sounds like a cryptic girl. It's a useful thing to be mysterious, he says to her between lapses in inaction, and Zexion furthers the trick by playing with her just a little.

Only that, by now, she doesn't seem doll-like- or even like a Nobody, almost-vibrant as she can be drowning in white and scattered tricks of the light.

And, if she ventures to try and draw him near, as she usually does…

Oh, it's their aim anyways to 'feel' like that.


	80. Tea

He's read that tea leaves can read the future, if brewed correctly. Then again, Zexion has read too many things, so Naminé can choose to disregard this small trivia with ease when he says it bored into conversation.

Not so the simple drink he brings up at times, fragrant and soothing hot. The cup they share- since he has only ever brought the one porcelain thing, and it gets awkward a bit fast when their fingers keep entwining not-on-purpose. The drawn-out conversations, still mostly silence but with words edging closer and closer if she wills them to it.

And maybe she can't do such a thing as divine the future- that's out of everyone's hands, and she knows that well enough after she's set another plan askew.

But if she can keep the present like this for a while, when she's managed to catch Zexion's hand in the way to the teacup again, it's alright.

* * *

A.N. – I know, this is out of the normal and back to the sappiness from… way in the beginning (not up to racking up the exact numbers)… but I wanted something a bit more overtly fluffy. So hope you're okay with that :)

Same as always, thanks for reading, double thanks for the reviews, and see you next time!


	81. Me and You

His hands make a meandering path from the back of her neck to her wrists, catching for a sliver of a moment at her waist. It's slow going, because Naminé quivers a bit under the touch and Zexion is concerned with her reaction.

It's usually her going for the closeness. For me-and-you, when they actually act like they can feel and are in a charade of nearly-loving each other. It's usually Naminé who goes for any sort of display beyond kindness or not holding denial nearly as well.

And Zexion is the one to break the contact, leaning back and barely keeping her near by a hand loose around hers.

"I am not keen to see you in discomfort, no matter the skill in your replication. It…"

It has somehow become something about both of them; a bit more entangled than a simple me and you, where he can dismiss the illusion easy and not almost-reel from the severed link.

"It isn't the idea. Negative emotions are almost completely researched."

She now mumbles a bit annoyed, pulling him into an embrace of her own as if eager to break him from investigation.

And he's interested enough in that.


	82. Prankster

Neither of them is a prankster, despite having all the tools for such a frivolous trade. And really, creatively tweaking a couple memories is part of Naminé's duties; same as cloaking the world in shadows is in Zexion's.

But they do partake in practical jokes of sorts, when she accidentally slips a couple sketches into his books to persuade him to return to her side earlier. When he shuffles pages far enough to let their arms by near-coincidence, and he whispers the due apology because, since they're already close, it can't do much harm.

He'll draw back faster than her anyways, with practiced neutrality, and wait near-patiently for her next move.


	83. Boo

The new white room is a near carbon copy of the first, down to the ascetic furnishing and the lack of color. Main differences being the large window that actually overlooks something, with thin billowy curtains, a vase of fresh flowers, and-

"Boo. I believe that is the common phantasmal salutation."

Zexion can't be here. Not that Naminé is averse to his presence, but it's still a jarring thing. That, and the quiet. He always was one to speak for long, instead of sitting in the high-backed chair with a muted expression.

"Hello again. I didn't expect-"

"Neither did I." He smiles- rueful, but Naminé can make out a bit of elation in it, maybe- "But I am pleased, in a way, to be here."

Faintly, she returns the smile, and sits across him to draw as they used to do.


	84. Perfect View

Naminé doesn't exactly question why Zexion always picks roundabout the same place to sit every time. Unless she moves- in which case, it's almost like she's tugged him by a string.

She's tried figuring out the system though, varying the way she draws a bit. Or, if she feels up to it, she'll try tentatively stretching a hand to brush near his. Reactions don't come often- but that's because it's Zexion she's dealing with, and since he hasn't departed yet, she lets her 'experimentation' go on.

Of course, the answer comes by nearly-accident, when Naminé was a bit careless and ended up with a couple- or many- bangs of hair across one eye.

And she realized that, if she just sat there, she was able to get a perfect view of him without her target noticing.

At least, until she let the angle slip into a drawing- and he only praised her lightly enough for the method used.


	85. Magic

They've both seen enough magic up until now. And Zexion casts chronically, the motions for weaving darkness almost etched into his slim hands. Might as well be, since if she reaches out swiftly enough she can still catch the last fumes of spells or a stray spark of energy.

And of course, their view about the subject is cynical- although Naminé has somewhat dulled him in that sense. In a convoluted way, since as much as she's tried, she still can't properly emote.

But she does every act with such abandon, can innately bend so many things to her whim…

Such as now, when she's curled her lips into a pleasant smile and lulled herself into his arms, with no complaints. Not even neutrality- and there it is, the traces of near-magic, where she convinces him of something almost warm.


	86. Fear

With her revised plans already picking up speed, Naminé thinks she has nothing left to fear. Or at least not for long, once she's managed to get far away from the scythe and deep blue eyes stop making her feel…

Two things. It's two people, so a near-emotion for each shade of blue. She has sunk in a guilty sky already, wound tight by illusions and that's the very thing.

Naminé has not many fears remaining- but Zexion, apparently, has a death sentence rushing ever closer and her company might not be the only reason he seeks sanctuary in her white room more often.

And she doesn't- can't really- tell him that it's all to be free. That if he keeps down, as he's done so very often when it's his life on the line, she can get them out (even if it started as a gambit for herself. His company was a bittersweet boon.)

But it's his mission, and she's always remembered how he'd tease her a bit about finishing one last thing before giving in to an embrace or something.

Well, it was his choice.

* * *

A.N. – I have no idea, but I like it. Guess that is/has been/will be my catchphrase here... :D However, that isn't the point. The point is, hope you enjoyed. Thanks for Taliax for reviewing!

Oh and before I forget- this is going to sound weird, but national holidays coming up. Meaning I'm going to be mostly off the internet for a little while- so sorry for missing a few updates, 'kay?

That said, as always thanks for tuning in for another chapter of Facsimile and see you soon!


	87. Princess

Zexion calls her 'Princess' as what passes for a joke. Naminé surmises it has something to do with his past, or with the courteous way he treats her when no-one's really looking at them. Or maybe it's just a fancier way of saying 'witch', and he has the taste to avoid the nickname she hates.

But it sounds nearly endearing, when they're alone and he's not being his usual sarcastic self. Very nearly, like it's teetering on the edge between pretense and something else.

What is she thinking? He's perfectly unfeeling and just a master at illusions- she is too, but Naminé would rather not dwell on that while chasing this line of thought down.

She makes a reach for his hand, mindful of how the contact doesn't even register with him until she's making as if to pull them close and there she determines.

Being with him is barely better than being alone.

But then again, it's him she's thinking about as they hold hands.

* * *

A.N. – I live! Sorry for the lack of updates due to lack of internet, hope you had a nice time… thanks to Taliax and sonicdisney for the reviews left while I was out and for all of you for reading this!

(And I keep going on tangets- guess that's me...)

See you around!


	88. End

A.N. – another repeat! Oh darn… well, same method as last time, okay? So, from… 50 themes (picked at random), I drew the number 50 xD So, here we go with 'End'!

As always, thanks a million for you guys still reading this! Take care, have fun, and if you want to make an insanely happy author of me, leave a review. But that's just if you want. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

It ends, much as it started, with another beautiful white lie in the same white room. With Zexion leaning against the opposite wall, regally neutral; Naminé curled in her chair and with almost-feelings rolling off her in waves.

There's deceit mixed in with the white and the near-smiles on the girl's face and there are a million possible paths stretched out between the pages of his book.

And he flicks between all of them, led by logic and the wavering care in Naminé's somehow innocent eyes and comes to rest in the only one that he knows he can follow- and the remnants of proof that he had stumbled linked to her through many others are swept away with the last bits of…

Of what, neither knows. Of a teasing smile on Zexion's face, or the slight wonder at feeling warm under her touch, or the hours filled with quiet voices or some much-diluted (as if) love of some kind.

But it ends, much as it started, with another pretty lie wreathed by smiles and the promise of wide-open skies.


	89. Hate

He can't hate, and Naminé agrees that such a thing is beneficial. He can't actually recoil from a touch, or overly mind the small deceits used against him. He probably won't be nearly as callous as her other captors, though that might just be one of Zexion's quirks- still, he doesn't have a reason to.

But the catch- and there always is a catch, this Naminé knew even before he told her (and she remembers the smirk quite well, near-sincere amusement at the not-so-inexperienced). The catch is that, regardless of his lack of hate-

Well, she'll take indifference over that any day.


	90. Flawed

A.N. – Wishing-fire, you really let yourself slip here… another repeat xD Well, same old, same old… so, from a random challenge and a random number: Flawed.

And, with that said… final countdown started! _Ten!_

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Final nonexistence is flawed. That, or cessation amounted to a twilit limbo and a witch-girl anchoring him down to her by smiles and fleeting rebellions.

Then again, Zexion muses, he didn't adhere completely to the definition of nobody. Or at least, not until the very end. And he'd say such a thing was appalling, if not illogical. He really would-

But he finds that, for some reason, he wouldn't recant any of his time with Naminé, wouldn't try to fix any of the glaring mistakes- the smiles, the contacts, the conversations wheeling themselves into the braver girl still trying to fix something.

He would've liked planning this though.


	91. Dreamer

She doesn't dream her life away, which is a more interesting thing to do. Instead, Naminé's become frighteningly accustomed to making others chase sweet dreams into oblivion with a smile as they careen over the edge.

It doesn't always work, of course. There is her one exception, immersed into some thick book and giving her small pointers for her illusions. Or slipping theories into the silence-

It isn't free will, Zexion says, and it most definitely isn't attachment-

She nearly grins, and he catches his implication as quick as breathing before she can point it out.

"Refrain from falling into such fanciful ideas, Naminé. It is impossible for me to feel attachment."

But on the small seconds where he slips into an almost dreamer, he does do an exemplary job of making her believe in such a thing.

* * *

A.N. –_ nine_! And it's seriously weird when you get a song stuck into your head only because of the prompt… oh well :)

See you soon!


	92. Ruby

A lifetime later, he sees the red-haired girl again. Ienzo didn't really expect to, after all that had gone down, and anyways she hadn't even registered in his mind for roughly what-was-it-really ten years.

He figured it had been due to not being alive. And Ienzo figured that the somewhat distorted image of the other girl had to be from his side of the world, discolored and obscured-

Not as cold as expected though. There is- was, Zexion's dead for sure now, even if he still haunts half of the mirrors- something, towards a pale girl who looked astoundingly like the ruby-haired apprentice in passing through this world.

Ruby-red instead of flickering pale blond, and that sends him reeling back to white halls and another girl and-

Oh. He should've figured out the hearts thing earlier.

* * *

A.N. – and here is the most tangential prompt, at least in my opinion. Even the characters swerved out here… I guess it still counts, in an exceedingly roundabout way.

Hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading and hope you had a nice Monday ;)

(Eight!)


	93. Scream

In memory, she has never screamed. No pleas, no panics, no flights of righteous anger. Or rather, none strong enough to warrant raising her voice to such unpleasant volumes.

Naminé doesn't need to. She can get her desires- and many unwanted boons- just by scribbles on a page and the depth of borrowed feelings. An argument or two at times, a slim wound when she's been unlucky in her endeavors.

So when Zexion makes as if to depart, or reverts to the heartlessness he's so known for outside of her prison, Naminé doesn't really raise her voice.

She just calls out, and lets the slight heaviness to her words carry them over to him.

This particular time, it does work.

* * *

A.N. – seven :)


	94. Color

For nearly always drawing with color, Naminé is startlingly wan. Maybe it's camouflage- a moon-white girl for a white room, but she doubts it. She can barely cast illusions with the aid of her drawings, after all.

And, for usually being so pale, Naminé can actually draw some color into herself, although maybe not fully at will. The blue of her eyes, too expressive for a ghost. There's a small shade of pink at times, when someone has called her out on 'an excessive amount of emotional pretending' from behind a book and a blue-gray curtain of hair.

And she'll usually argue with Zexion about him doing the same, or at least she'll try. When he's not gotten it completely correctly.

* * *

A.N. – six!


	95. Sunset

A.N. - … everything considered, I'm thinking 'derp' right now. Heeheehee ;D Anyways, here we go…

Oh yeah- five~

* * *

Too many sunsets have lessened the appeal and the emotional impact. They now perch themselves by the window with a diminished trill of romanticism; old ironies sneak out and dash between the blushing skies as they once did.

It's made their relationship of sorts stable though. Settled their closeness into something like dear routine- Naminé toying with his fingers, or Zexion teasing her just a bit about how she likes embracing him (even though he feels like air now).

And for this moment, he'll get to think that the clichés have merit, if only because Naminé has coaxed him into believing so.


	96. Wonderful

The wonderful thing is how they can play along, let alone that they do. Because playing along with the parody of affection implies they want it, implies that under the schemes they care for someone other than themselves.

For Naminé, it's nearly fine. Zexion is fond of commenting that she likes being deluded like so. Or that heroism really is contagious, and that one of these days she'll leave his side. And after that, she'll usually draw him into a light embrace- maybe mocking, maybe serious and she'll press close to where a heart isn't and pretend there's a heartbeat against her.

(He's less neutral than he lets on though, slowly lengthening the embraces or finding slightly-less-necessary reasons to sit in her room for a while).

For him though, such a thing as playing along is nigh unthinkable- or at least, doing so consciously. It isn't wondrous that he'd be capable of pretending such a thing.

The important thing is that it lasts.

* * *

A.N. – four!


	97. Pain

Darkness has never been painful for Zexion. And, if he's honest- not by too much, but enough to warrant that description- it's even a boon. A double edged one, since all things have strings attached, but Zexion deems losing his little-used heart a minor fee for the eldritch powers and a voice.

Plus, a heart he can get back- soon enough, if all falls into place as he knows it will.

But now, there's phantom pain he can barely hide in a smirk- there's a treacherous motion, moving his arm up and his hand around Naminé's face in what once upon a time would've been…

He can't actually feel pain, and neither can she feel even half of what she's acting. There's no way the bizarrely tender motion is his, same as the loose embrace she holds him in simply can't be.

And it would nearly hurt, if he was able. But it does make him acutely aware of why he wants his heart back.

* * *

A.N. – three~ We've really gone a long way, haven't we? Well, last three and then you're free from my rambling insanity… but if you're here, then I guess you've liked it enough :) So thanks for reading, even if it feels redundant by now. And to the people who left reviews, you know I'm really grateful- I'd bore you if I went and outright gushed.

So see you all tomorrow!


	98. Death

Naminé finds about his death secondhand. In exceedingly vague terms, as was the custom for the place, even with the Nobodies gone.

Well, most of them. She's still there, walking out to be sure, but still within the pristine white halls.

And she'd say she's thrilled, but there's something weighing her down. It's in the last shadows, Naminé is sure, because he had such a penchant for even the smallest scraps of darkness. Or in the fact that, of all people, Naminé can't believe that Zexion-

He didn't. He really didn't make her feel a thing- and she's only looking around every corner with a last wish because she doesn't want more loneliness. And she's got Sora- well, not really, but he's there (unconscious) and she doesn't need (but she does want) the lilting theories and the way she could persuade him to pretend he really could care.

She doesn't quite stop when DiZ catches her again at her constant search for her _companion._

(Naminé doesn't think that's the word).

* * *

A.N. – two!


	99. Breathe

To breathe is beyond conscious control- Zexion knows this, it's simple biology, and while he appreciates that at least something still holds up to logic, he wishes it was more consistent.

A lot less craving of physical closeness from Naminé- or maybe, that she finally shares the fleeting warmth that she somehow still has. Or why can she even blush, faint as the rosy shade is, with nothing to drive that.

It's also wanting to not get his breath caught- just a little, just because he's still uncomfortable holding her or when she drifts to curl at his side during the long conversations.

He just shouldn't be able to do such a thing.

* * *

A.N. – one! Since the finale is tomorrow, any last requests? Complaints? Bizarre extras? I promise everything gets a fair considering ;)

Whoa, last time I'll say it for this challenge: See you next time on _Facsimile_!


	100. Once

It was a once-off deal, a spur of the moment if such a thing could be. And, for being simply that, the results were quite intriguing.

He remembers with clarity how warmth felt, the pleasant sensation of someone metaphorically close or of being with another individual for enjoyment rather than sheer need. Although, as he fancied pointing out to Naminé, escaping loneliness could be considered-

She silences him by pointedly taking his hand. It isn't much- she's done things at a larger scale, she's helped with research or even agreed to test something out (if neither of them deemed it dangerous, that is, and if Zexion could spirit her away for long enough).

It does the trick, and his voice fades off into the way his fingers slowly wrap around her palm.

And she comments, with a ghost of surprise, that for once he is maybe warm.

* * *

A.N. – zero, zip, nada, nil remaining! It's the end~

Guys, it's been a pleasure writing this for your enjoyment. And mine xD But anyways, a million thanks if you made it all the way to the end, and a million thanks more to all the people who faved, followed, commented and just generally were here.

And, a couple comments on my part for this… you know, aside from the obvious 'hope they weren't OoC' and all the legalese stuff:

- I was less of a romance brat this time around, or so I think.

- Errr… I also mercilessly abused a couple of clichés at the beginning, but I blame the prompts (naw, not really, I'm still not a great writer but maybe someday).

- And I didn't obey the word limits… ever, I think. Or maybe in one or two- I decided that I forfeited those for my own enjoyment, and hey, I like waxing lyrical at times. Hope that didn't get too annoying.

- Along the lines of the first point, I kinda ended up going a bit platonic… and totally forgot that this was a pairing thing at a couple points :P I regret nothing though!

So thanks! And longest A.N. ever on here ;)

See you soon somewhere else!


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